N.D. Jones's Blog, page 6
February 14, 2016
A Valentine's Day Story
Happy Valentine's Day to all. In honor of the holiday, I've posted a short Valentine's Day story I wrote ages ago. It was a writing exercise, of sorts, because I never write in first-person. But, for this kind of story, first-person narrative seemed fitting.
"To My Beloved Isis..."
The living room is quiet, somber. The moon of my cherished Cairo casts a yellow glow through the translucent windows. The flood of ethereal light falls on my lap and the papers in my trembling hands.
The leather couch is cool against my burnt umber flesh, but my legs and feet are warmly tucked under my gray, satin nightgown.
Releasing the papers with one hand, I reach beside me and push the tip of the sparkling blue crystal once. The crystal pyramid comes to life, a gentle white illumination bouncing off the glass table on which it sits.
There is no sound in the house. I sigh and run an arthritic hand through hair as soft and gray as Lake Qarun at dusk. Such silence used to bring me comfort from the noise and stress of a busy workday. Now, it shatters my soul.
Yet I listen, waiting for the familiar sound of his evening arrival.
Isis, I'm home.
I strain my ears and close my eyes, but it doesn't help. The words of old, an acoustic hum that now haunts my waking mind, nothing more than an echo ghosted away in the dry-stone walls of our home—a torment to my bleeding heart.
My eyes settle on the flowers on the marble pedestal table in the corner of the living room, an elegant arrangement of white narcissus and red water lilies. I consider rising to take another sniff but am too drained. My fatigue is more than skin and bone deep. It's the kind of tiredness that comes with the slow erosion of the soul and of the heart.
The flowers arrived earlier today, the same bouquet for the last fifteen years. I was surprised the first year, arriving five months after his death. My son, Horus, was angry, thinking someone was playing a cruel joke.
Then he noticed and read the letter and card written in Osiris's bold script—his father, my beloved husband. It was no hoax, but an unexpected sentiment. A Valentine message from the place where only souls can venture, leaving brokenhearted bodies behind.
When the flowers and card arrived the second year and then the third, I stopped trying to track down who was responsible for forwarding the items to me. Nor did I wonder who else knew how much Osiris loved Saint Valentine’s Day, an ancient Christian celebration few in Egypt recognized. But Osiris, a world scholar and unrepentant romantic, claimed the holiday as his own, bringing it into our home, our lives, and our hearts.
I gaze down at the old-fashioned card and smile, my heart warming at the sight of the image. I don't know how Osiris did it, but each card is embossed with an image from our twenty-five years as husband and wife.
The first year it was a picture from our wedding, Osiris in white and me in a red silk robe. It was a union years in the making, the coming together of hearts and souls never an easy journey. Yet we’d prevailed, obstacles obliterated, differences compromised, families reassured, and gods appeased. It was meant to be, and so it was, the universe bringing us together, accepting our inevitable bonding as fate, as prophecy.
The second year brought back wonderful memories of a week-old Horus held securely in his proud father’s arms. Horus, our only child, the one we thought the ancient gods would never grant us. We were thankful for the eventual blessing.
Year three meshed tears with laughter, a simple camel ride gone awry caught for all eternity, relived in the glossy image on a Valentine’s Day card. But what Osiris had failed to capture with his optical lens was the delicate way he’d helped me from the sand, dusted the granules from my sweaty bronzed skin, and smiled at me as if I held magic in my eyes.
And so it went, each blessed event of our sacred union memorialized on an everlasting Valentine’s Day card.
I smile again at my new card. I remember the day fondly—Horus's induction into Khemet National Guard. I no longer recall who took the photograph, but it was the last family picture taken before…
I stroke Osiris's face, wishing I could still feel the soft bristles of his beard, the one that tickled whenever he would kiss me, drawing me into his hard body, a prelude to so much pleasure, so much joy.
I’m drawing the feeling out, the single day of the year that helps get me through all the others. Who would've thought an ancient European custom would become my salvation?
I unfold the crisp, beige paper and rub my eyes as burning tears form at the sight of Osiris's familiar handwriting.
The letter no longer smells of him—rosewood—but that doesn't matter. It's yet another reminder of Osiris when time and age has a frightening way of distorting and erasing even the most ardent of memories. I read aloud, needing to hear as well as feel the words of my heart mate.
“To my beloved Isis,
Happy Valentine's Day. I hope this past year has been one of increased wisdom and infinite good health. I wish I were there next to you, holding your beautiful body in my eager arms, kissing those delectable lips, making love to you until Horus blares his music, drowning out our cries of satiation. But those are dreams of the past and wishes for the future, for we will be together again one day. I promise.”
Another swipe of my eyes and a barely repressed sob follows. I yearn for that reunion, and while I wish it were upon me now, I can wait. I must, for Horus's sake. He is not yet ready for me to depart this place, to shed this withering shell for the fields of reed. Although he is now a husband and father, he is still my son and I will not abandon him. Not until he's ready. I can wait. I have waited.
“Beloved, on this 15th Valentine of my passing, I wish to repeat what you know so well. I love you! My love is larger than the universe and brighter than a dozen suns. Forever. Eternal. In your eyes, your heart, your warmth, I discovered PEACE and found HOME. Until your soul seeks mine, be well, be safe, and be happy.”
I refold the letter and hold it to my thrumming heart. Tears fall in a maudlin dance of two streams that converge at my quivering chin and collapse onto Osiris’s letter.
The sun will be up soon and I’m ready, that brief moment when Osiris's star greets and welcomes the new day.
I stand and walk to the marble pedestal. Three deep inhalations of floral fortification are all I require before proceeding to the balcony.
The morning air is winter warm, but the heat from Osiris’s words are even warmer. I take my usual spot on the bench and wait.
In the solitude, time ceases to exist and all else fades into nothingness. No sound. No sights. Nothing, except his touch—the feel of his soul caressing mine. The sensation increases as the rays of the sun penetrate my meditating mind. And he pulls me deeper to him, renewing my life force, a silent plea to never forget, to be strong, and to wait.
Gradually, I open my eyes and glory in the orange-and-yellow streaks of the reborn sun. I smile and stand, my aging body rejuvenated. I turn away from the sacred place and whisper the closing words of our ritual. "Our love endures and will never be forgotten. I will love you always, Osiris. Happy Valentine's Day."
"To My Beloved Isis..."
The living room is quiet, somber. The moon of my cherished Cairo casts a yellow glow through the translucent windows. The flood of ethereal light falls on my lap and the papers in my trembling hands.
The leather couch is cool against my burnt umber flesh, but my legs and feet are warmly tucked under my gray, satin nightgown.
Releasing the papers with one hand, I reach beside me and push the tip of the sparkling blue crystal once. The crystal pyramid comes to life, a gentle white illumination bouncing off the glass table on which it sits.
There is no sound in the house. I sigh and run an arthritic hand through hair as soft and gray as Lake Qarun at dusk. Such silence used to bring me comfort from the noise and stress of a busy workday. Now, it shatters my soul.
Yet I listen, waiting for the familiar sound of his evening arrival.
Isis, I'm home.
I strain my ears and close my eyes, but it doesn't help. The words of old, an acoustic hum that now haunts my waking mind, nothing more than an echo ghosted away in the dry-stone walls of our home—a torment to my bleeding heart.
My eyes settle on the flowers on the marble pedestal table in the corner of the living room, an elegant arrangement of white narcissus and red water lilies. I consider rising to take another sniff but am too drained. My fatigue is more than skin and bone deep. It's the kind of tiredness that comes with the slow erosion of the soul and of the heart.
The flowers arrived earlier today, the same bouquet for the last fifteen years. I was surprised the first year, arriving five months after his death. My son, Horus, was angry, thinking someone was playing a cruel joke.
Then he noticed and read the letter and card written in Osiris's bold script—his father, my beloved husband. It was no hoax, but an unexpected sentiment. A Valentine message from the place where only souls can venture, leaving brokenhearted bodies behind.
When the flowers and card arrived the second year and then the third, I stopped trying to track down who was responsible for forwarding the items to me. Nor did I wonder who else knew how much Osiris loved Saint Valentine’s Day, an ancient Christian celebration few in Egypt recognized. But Osiris, a world scholar and unrepentant romantic, claimed the holiday as his own, bringing it into our home, our lives, and our hearts.
I gaze down at the old-fashioned card and smile, my heart warming at the sight of the image. I don't know how Osiris did it, but each card is embossed with an image from our twenty-five years as husband and wife.
The first year it was a picture from our wedding, Osiris in white and me in a red silk robe. It was a union years in the making, the coming together of hearts and souls never an easy journey. Yet we’d prevailed, obstacles obliterated, differences compromised, families reassured, and gods appeased. It was meant to be, and so it was, the universe bringing us together, accepting our inevitable bonding as fate, as prophecy.
The second year brought back wonderful memories of a week-old Horus held securely in his proud father’s arms. Horus, our only child, the one we thought the ancient gods would never grant us. We were thankful for the eventual blessing.
Year three meshed tears with laughter, a simple camel ride gone awry caught for all eternity, relived in the glossy image on a Valentine’s Day card. But what Osiris had failed to capture with his optical lens was the delicate way he’d helped me from the sand, dusted the granules from my sweaty bronzed skin, and smiled at me as if I held magic in my eyes.
And so it went, each blessed event of our sacred union memorialized on an everlasting Valentine’s Day card.
I smile again at my new card. I remember the day fondly—Horus's induction into Khemet National Guard. I no longer recall who took the photograph, but it was the last family picture taken before…
I stroke Osiris's face, wishing I could still feel the soft bristles of his beard, the one that tickled whenever he would kiss me, drawing me into his hard body, a prelude to so much pleasure, so much joy.
I’m drawing the feeling out, the single day of the year that helps get me through all the others. Who would've thought an ancient European custom would become my salvation?
I unfold the crisp, beige paper and rub my eyes as burning tears form at the sight of Osiris's familiar handwriting.
The letter no longer smells of him—rosewood—but that doesn't matter. It's yet another reminder of Osiris when time and age has a frightening way of distorting and erasing even the most ardent of memories. I read aloud, needing to hear as well as feel the words of my heart mate.
“To my beloved Isis,
Happy Valentine's Day. I hope this past year has been one of increased wisdom and infinite good health. I wish I were there next to you, holding your beautiful body in my eager arms, kissing those delectable lips, making love to you until Horus blares his music, drowning out our cries of satiation. But those are dreams of the past and wishes for the future, for we will be together again one day. I promise.”
Another swipe of my eyes and a barely repressed sob follows. I yearn for that reunion, and while I wish it were upon me now, I can wait. I must, for Horus's sake. He is not yet ready for me to depart this place, to shed this withering shell for the fields of reed. Although he is now a husband and father, he is still my son and I will not abandon him. Not until he's ready. I can wait. I have waited.
“Beloved, on this 15th Valentine of my passing, I wish to repeat what you know so well. I love you! My love is larger than the universe and brighter than a dozen suns. Forever. Eternal. In your eyes, your heart, your warmth, I discovered PEACE and found HOME. Until your soul seeks mine, be well, be safe, and be happy.”
I refold the letter and hold it to my thrumming heart. Tears fall in a maudlin dance of two streams that converge at my quivering chin and collapse onto Osiris’s letter.
The sun will be up soon and I’m ready, that brief moment when Osiris's star greets and welcomes the new day.
I stand and walk to the marble pedestal. Three deep inhalations of floral fortification are all I require before proceeding to the balcony.
The morning air is winter warm, but the heat from Osiris’s words are even warmer. I take my usual spot on the bench and wait.
In the solitude, time ceases to exist and all else fades into nothingness. No sound. No sights. Nothing, except his touch—the feel of his soul caressing mine. The sensation increases as the rays of the sun penetrate my meditating mind. And he pulls me deeper to him, renewing my life force, a silent plea to never forget, to be strong, and to wait.
Gradually, I open my eyes and glory in the orange-and-yellow streaks of the reborn sun. I smile and stand, my aging body rejuvenated. I turn away from the sacred place and whisper the closing words of our ritual. "Our love endures and will never be forgotten. I will love you always, Osiris. Happy Valentine's Day."
February 13, 2016
Valentine's Day Giveaway
For one day only, I'm giving away a free ebook copy (PDF, Mobi, or ePub) of Of Fear and Faith. This offer is only open to my friends and followers on Goodreads, Twitter, and Facebook, and for those Goodreads' readers who've entered my giveaway for a paperback copy of Of Fear and Faith.
If interested in the Valentine's Day Giveaway, complete the giveaway form at https://www.ndjonesparanormalpleasure....
The ebook will be emailed to you on Valentine's Day.
Wishing you much love and happiness throughout the year,
N.D. Jones
If interested in the Valentine's Day Giveaway, complete the giveaway form at https://www.ndjonesparanormalpleasure....
The ebook will be emailed to you on Valentine's Day.
Wishing you much love and happiness throughout the year,
N.D. Jones
February 10, 2016
February 9, 2016
Interviews by Dante
Date: February 10, 2016 03:27PM -- February 11, 2016 02:27PM
RSVP by: February 03, 2016 02:27PM
Venue: Dante Craddock's Blog, US
Type: author appearance
Website: http://www.dantecraddockauthor.com/in...
I will be the guest author for the February 10th Interviews by Dante. Check it out.
https://www.goodreads.com/event/show/...
RSVP by: February 03, 2016 02:27PM
Venue: Dante Craddock's Blog, US
Type: author appearance
Website: http://www.dantecraddockauthor.com/in...
I will be the guest author for the February 10th Interviews by Dante. Check it out.
https://www.goodreads.com/event/show/...
February 8, 2016
Romance Week 16
Goodreads Giveaway of 10 autographed copies of Of Fear and Faith. Giveaway ends March 5th. Enter at https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/sh...
Excerpt:
Nearly fifteen minutes later, Sanura sensed Assefa. His energy reached her before his words of, “I apologize for having kept you waiting.”
Assefa breezed through the open door that Sanura had decided to leave open after the fourth woman had come and gone. Assefa’s office, a revolving door of Baltimore’s finest beauties, she thought with an unreasonable flint of annoyed jealousy.
“You know,” he said, closing the door, “Mike McKutchen may not last until his retirement.”
Sanura didn’t even want to know what her godfather had done now.
Instead of going around his desk and sitting in what looked to be a comfortable leather chair, Assefa sat in the wooden chair beside her.
“By the time I reached the men’s locker room, Mike already had Lieutenant Ramsey on the ground and in a chokehold. Mind you, Sanura, Ramsey could pass as a thirty-something Bubba Smith.” Assefa smiled, a faint dimple coming to life as he told his story. “Mike was on Ramsey’s back, a speck of snarling, cursing detective. I didn’t wait to hear how it started. I just knew I had to end it before Mike did something he would later regret.”
Sanura closed her mouth when she realized it was hanging open. Gods, Assefa was right, Mike wouldn’t make it to retirement if he kept getting into fights with men half his age and triple his size. As much as she hated that Mike had managed to get himself into yet another altercation, Sanura had to admit how pleased she was to have this moment of alone time with Assefa.
“Anyway, I managed to get Mike to let Ramsey go.”
“You what?” No way had he talked Mike down from the ledge. The only person she’d ever known capable of pulling the dwarf back from the brink had been her father.
Smiling, Assefa wrapped a lock of her hair around two of his fingers and twirled. A naughty twinkle appeared in his eyes, and Sanura knew this was what had drawn all those women to this tiny, tackily furnished office. This man, this amazingly handsome man who, when he smiled at a woman, made her feel as if she were the only star that mattered in a world full of beauty and wonder.
“I told Mike if he didn’t let the lieutenant go that I would whisk you away to my secret lair, seduce you, and name our tenth child after him.”
Who knew a jaw could drop so far or that blood could rush so fast to a witch’s face?
He tightened his fingers in her hair. “Would you like that? To go away together and forget all this madness with the adze?”
Gods, the man’s voice was breathy sex, his fingers masterful negotiators. His lips were warm and soft when he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Maybe not ten children, though. Two or three would do nicely. By the way”—he released her hair—“you blush so prettily you make a man want to beat his chest, throw you over his shoulder, and find the nearest cave.”
Excerpt:
Nearly fifteen minutes later, Sanura sensed Assefa. His energy reached her before his words of, “I apologize for having kept you waiting.”
Assefa breezed through the open door that Sanura had decided to leave open after the fourth woman had come and gone. Assefa’s office, a revolving door of Baltimore’s finest beauties, she thought with an unreasonable flint of annoyed jealousy.
“You know,” he said, closing the door, “Mike McKutchen may not last until his retirement.”
Sanura didn’t even want to know what her godfather had done now.
Instead of going around his desk and sitting in what looked to be a comfortable leather chair, Assefa sat in the wooden chair beside her.
“By the time I reached the men’s locker room, Mike already had Lieutenant Ramsey on the ground and in a chokehold. Mind you, Sanura, Ramsey could pass as a thirty-something Bubba Smith.” Assefa smiled, a faint dimple coming to life as he told his story. “Mike was on Ramsey’s back, a speck of snarling, cursing detective. I didn’t wait to hear how it started. I just knew I had to end it before Mike did something he would later regret.”
Sanura closed her mouth when she realized it was hanging open. Gods, Assefa was right, Mike wouldn’t make it to retirement if he kept getting into fights with men half his age and triple his size. As much as she hated that Mike had managed to get himself into yet another altercation, Sanura had to admit how pleased she was to have this moment of alone time with Assefa.
“Anyway, I managed to get Mike to let Ramsey go.”
“You what?” No way had he talked Mike down from the ledge. The only person she’d ever known capable of pulling the dwarf back from the brink had been her father.
Smiling, Assefa wrapped a lock of her hair around two of his fingers and twirled. A naughty twinkle appeared in his eyes, and Sanura knew this was what had drawn all those women to this tiny, tackily furnished office. This man, this amazingly handsome man who, when he smiled at a woman, made her feel as if she were the only star that mattered in a world full of beauty and wonder.
“I told Mike if he didn’t let the lieutenant go that I would whisk you away to my secret lair, seduce you, and name our tenth child after him.”
Who knew a jaw could drop so far or that blood could rush so fast to a witch’s face?
He tightened his fingers in her hair. “Would you like that? To go away together and forget all this madness with the adze?”
Gods, the man’s voice was breathy sex, his fingers masterful negotiators. His lips were warm and soft when he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Maybe not ten children, though. Two or three would do nicely. By the way”—he released her hair—“you blush so prettily you make a man want to beat his chest, throw you over his shoulder, and find the nearest cave.”
February 3, 2016
Audiobook Giveaway - "Fire, Fury, Faith"
Just a reminder, you have until February 14th to enter my giveaway for a chance to win a digital download of my paranormal romance novella Fire, Fury, Faith
Check out the book trailer for the audiobook at https://www.goodreads.com/videos/9696...
To enter the giveaway, complete the registration form on my website's home page: http://www.ndjonesparanormalpleasure.com
Winners will be announced on February 15th.
Check out the book trailer for the audiobook at https://www.goodreads.com/videos/9696...
To enter the giveaway, complete the registration form on my website's home page: http://www.ndjonesparanormalpleasure.com
Winners will be announced on February 15th.
February 2, 2016
"Heat, Hunt, Hope" Giveaway
Through Amazon Giveaway, readers will have a chance to win a paperback copy of my paranormal romance novella Heat, Hunt, Hope
.
Go to https://giveaway.amazon.com/p/339e14c... to enter contest.
Giveaway ends Feb 9, 2016 11:59 PM PST
I have to edit this post because, to my surprise, 31 people entered the giveaway in the time it took me to send a Tweet and post to Facebook. I already have the four winners for the giveaway, which is awesome.
Congratulations to
Amanda
Natasha
Theresa
Sean
I'll post again when I create another Amazon Giveaway.
Thanks,
N.D. Jones
. Go to https://giveaway.amazon.com/p/339e14c... to enter contest.
Giveaway ends Feb 9, 2016 11:59 PM PST
I have to edit this post because, to my surprise, 31 people entered the giveaway in the time it took me to send a Tweet and post to Facebook. I already have the four winners for the giveaway, which is awesome.
Congratulations to
Amanda
Natasha
Theresa
Sean
I'll post again when I create another Amazon Giveaway.
Thanks,
N.D. Jones
January 27, 2016
"Of Fear and Faith" Giveaway
Today begins the first day of my goodreads giveaway of my paranormal romance novel Of Fear and Faith. Winners will receive an autographed copy of Of Fear and Faith. The giveaway ends on March 5th, so enter today.
Full giveaway details can be found here: https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/sh...
A preview of the novel is also available on goodreads. Check it out.
Full giveaway details can be found here: https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/sh...
A preview of the novel is also available on goodreads. Check it out.
N.D. Jones Blog Interview
Because I'm so behind the times, I've never done a blog interview before. Sure, go ahead and laugh while I write the rest of this blog update. Catch up when you're done.
Anyway, I just completed my interview with fellow author Mercedes Fox. The interview went live today. It was a cool experience for this new author.
Check out the interview at https://mercedesfoxbooks.com/meet-aut...
Thanks,
N.D.
Anyway, I just completed my interview with fellow author Mercedes Fox. The interview went live today. It was a cool experience for this new author.
Check out the interview at https://mercedesfoxbooks.com/meet-aut...
Thanks,
N.D.
January 21, 2016
"Fire, Fury, Faith" Audiobook Giveaway (Paranormal Romance)
N.D. Jones
Fire, Fury, Faith
Issa, a Guardian Angel, seeks revenge against the fire demon who nearly kills his wife, Serwa, a Healer Angel.
I am giving away a digital download of my paranormal romance novella - "Fire, Fury, Faith." It's a short listen at 3 hours and 31 minutes. You can check out the book trailer for the audiobook at https://www.goodreads.com/videos/9696...
To receive a copy of the audiobook, register and leave a comment on my website at https://ndjonesparanormalpleasure.com
This giveaway will end February 14th at midnight.
Happy listening.
N.D.
Fire, Fury, Faith
Issa, a Guardian Angel, seeks revenge against the fire demon who nearly kills his wife, Serwa, a Healer Angel.
I am giving away a digital download of my paranormal romance novella - "Fire, Fury, Faith." It's a short listen at 3 hours and 31 minutes. You can check out the book trailer for the audiobook at https://www.goodreads.com/videos/9696...
To receive a copy of the audiobook, register and leave a comment on my website at https://ndjonesparanormalpleasure.com
This giveaway will end February 14th at midnight.
Happy listening.
N.D.
